Loser
by DuchessOfDementia
Summary: "Cheated? Whatever do you mean? I didn't cheat." "Really? Then what do you call that little wink, fourth-year?" George and Luna duel one another in the Room of Requirement.


**The fabulous world of tumblr has given me a new appreciation for another adorable couple—George/Luna. Well, enjoy, and I hope I do the ship justice.**

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"Alright, Hermione, that was brilliant!" Harry called sportingly, nodding at the gleeful Gryffindor as a throng of girls surrounded her, giggling over her victory. Ron, meanwhile, was muttering about "letting her win" while Neville awkwardly patted him on the back.

"So; who'll be next?" Harry called optimistically. Predictably, however, no one volunteered. The whole of Dumbledore's Army was silent, glancing around the Room of Requirement, particularly at Ron, who had just been blown six feet backwards and landed—hard—on his own arse. He was still rubbing the spot, pink in the face with shame.

George shifted next to Fred, the both of them grinning eagerly at the group of mostly-younger students who buzzed with uncertain mumbling.

After a full fifteen seconds, Luna Lovegood stepped away from the group of Hermione's admirers, wearing her faint little smile.

"I'll give it a go."

Muffled snickering sounded from somewhere in the room. George noticed the angry looks that Harry and Neville threw around the rooms, looking for whoever was laughing at the tiny girl. George had to admit, she was strange-looking. She was so small, and fragile-seeming, but her hair must've been at least three feet long, falling in silver waves down her back and swishing as she rocked on her heels. He'd seen her around, of course—she was rather impossible to miss—but he'd never shared words with her. It made sense, since he'd come to understand she was a few years younger than him, as well as being in Ravenclaw. She was more than a little out-of-the-way.

"Thanks, Luna," Harry said, sounding genuinely appreciative. Luna's smile widened a small bit at his kindness.

"Now, who'll be Luna's partner?" Harry asked the room. More fidgeting and shifting occurred, but no one stepped forward.

Harry groaned. "Guys, c'mon. We've got to learn this stuff."

George heard Fred yawn dramatically next to him. He saw it coming, of course—how could he not? He and Fred used the trick on Ron all the time—but he found Fred's stretched arm pushing him forward before he could prevent it. With an awkward skip, he was suddenly separated from the crowd, alone in the centre with Luna.

Harry grinned. "Good show, George. All right, Luna, you'll be standing at this end, here, and George, if you'd stand in front of the mantle? Yeah, right there's good."

George threw Fred an especially dirty look as he slumped of towards the fireplace mantle. Standing a good four feet in front of the dim fire, he turned to face the tiny blonde girl, Luna Lovegood. She was standing rather still, the tip of her toes pointed inward; George thought that the stance might look awkward or childish on anyone else, but it seemed to suit her just fine.

She flashed him a tiny smile, but it seemed different from the one she'd given Harry; this was a very mischievous, very deliberate smile. George had a feeling that this Luna girl was under the impression that she'd win.

Giving her a confident smirk of his own, he raised his wand. She mirrored him.

"Alright, remember, it's _'Stupefy'. _Just a tiny cock of the wrist, that should do it. On the count of three, now. Ready?"

George shifted a bit, perfecting the stance of his feet.

"One"—

Both George and Luna tensed. He could feel the muscles in his forearm and his shoulders tighten with tension. He was quite certain he could cast faster than this little, younger girl, though he did admit that the idea of throwing her backwards and stunning her didn't sound very satisfying...really quite _unpleasant_, actually...

"_Two_"—

Luna's lips changed into a shy little smile, and, to George's immense surprise, she _winked_. He gaped the smallest bit, and barely heard Harry's final count.

"_Three!"_

He raised his wand, but it was too late. Before he could get the first half of the incantation out of his mouth, she had already called it out in her musical, silver-bell voice, and he felt himself jolting backwards, missing the fire just barely, and all of a sudden he was lying on the ground, numb.

_Numb _was not the same as_ deaf,_ however.

"Luna! That was absolutely _brilliant!_" Harry had to raise his voice to be heard over the cheers. In spite of himself, George felt a strange kind of pity for her, knowing that many of the people now admiring her had been mocking her when she first stepped forward. He wondered if she knew it, herself.

Soon the noise died down, and Harry was calling for more volunteers. This time he heard Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan being singled out. He wondered, dimly, what in the hell would happen to him now?

He didn't have time to ask the question for long; he suddenly felt a warm grasp pulling him aside, away from the fireplace and into the corner. It was not Fred's strong grip, however, that was identical to his own; these hands felt small, _very_ small.

"I _am_ sorry about that," a high, thread-thin voice told him gently. "I only wanted to learn the spell, you know? I hope you're not hurt."

George was pleasantly surprised he could still move his mouth. "_Cheated_," he muttered.

"I still didn't do it quite right. You should be unconscious, you know. I suppose I just didn't mean it enough."

George managed to roll his eyes up to look at her. Her hair, despite being pulled back into some low, loose hold, was still dangling over his face, hiding him like a curtain from the rest of the room. For some reason, George found himself thinking that if they were kissing, no one would even see them. He immediately rejected the idea inwardly, wondering why his brain had, for some reason, categorised _Luna Lovegood,_ the bizarre, friendless, fourth-year Ravenclaw he had never even formally met before now as someone he would ever want to _kiss_.

She was a little bit fetching, though, George could admit. In a young way, sure, but he thought that she might be more than a little fit when she were older. She was fit _now_, he supposed, mutely meeting her wide, penitent gaze. Her eyes were the strangest he'd ever seen—he couldn't decide the colour. Somewhere between lavender, pale grey and a very light blue, George thought.

"_Rennervate,"_ Luna mumbled, and abruptly, like a switch being thrown, George felt his control return to him. It was almost painful, at first—but immediately afterwards, he felt a comfortable surge of pleasure ripple through his blood.

"Better?" she inquired, sounding so much like a wind chime that it made George raise his eyebrows.

"You _stunned_ me," George said incredulously.

"You would have stunned me," she reminded him simply. "Besides, I didn't do it properly, as I've said. You _should've_ been unconscious."

They both turned for a moment as Hannah Abbott's knees buckled under her. Harry ran forward and caught her before her head could hit the floor. She hadn't gone flying, at least, but she was certainly unconscious. There was more cheering, and a selection of new partners—this time, Dean and Seamus.

"Never mind that," George snapped, still feeling indignant. "_You_ cheated."

Luna gave him a look that was so quintessentially innocent that he suddenly found himself thinking about kissing her again, which made _no_ sense to him at all. There shouldn't have been a correlation between kissing and innocence, so, why did he feel one? Absolutely senseless.

"Cheated? Whatever do you mean? I didn't cheat." Luna asked. George found himself rapidly running out of things to consciously compare her voice to—birdsong? Wind chimes? Bells? Cotton? Feathers?

"Really? Then what d'you call that little _wink_, fourth-year? That's some dirty fighting right there." George rubbed his lower back, still quite sore from his fall.

A smile slowly spread across Luna's full, white face. Her light-coloured eyes twinkled. "Oh, that. Well, I'm a Ravenclaw for a reason, y'know?"

George fell silent trying to figure out exactly what that meant. Did that mean that she _knew_ he would be thrown by her wink? How could she have _possibly_ expected that? For once, George Weasley was speechless.

Before he could answer with something witty, or at least competent, she had stood up and skipped back into line, watching Dean and Seamus' duel. George stared after her, dumbfounded.

He finally joined Fred back in their place in the group. Fred thumped him on the back and berated him for a minute or so about losing to a fourth-year girl, but George wasn't paying any attention. He was engrossed in watching Luna Lovegood as her eyes followed the duel.

He supposed he had been right before—it made no sense for him to find her youth, her innocence appealing. But that's just Luna, isn't it? He glanced from her radish earrings and her blue-beaded butterbeer cork necklace to her misty eyes and faint smile and decided that, yes, with Luna Lovegood, things were pretty guaranteed to not make any sense.

Luna caught him staring and gave him a tiny smile, and George decided that he was quite alright with senselessness.

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**Reviews prevent heart disease. Just sayin'. **


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